Are rubbing shoulders in the crowded shop
Where lurid signs proclaim a pale green tea
Or shriek in praise of chicken fricassee.
Furtively they take their places in line
And meditate the where-withall to dine ...
Then whisper it quite deprecatingly,
And steal away as humble as can be!
LISTENING IN.
(Recess in a College Corridor)
Footsteps paced down the hall—slow, meditative footsteps, with long intervals between them. Then there was a swish of skirts, and little pattering taps on the hard marble. Then both footsteps stopped, and I heard a high treble tittering, and a deep long-drawn out, but kindly roar. There was a clatter as though books had fallen on the floor—another titter, and rather a bored basso sigh. A bell rang. The pattering and swishing recommenced and faded out of earshot. The steady, determined strides drew nearer and nearer—and by that time the second bell had rung—and the door was slowly opened.